


hot blaze's hot spot

by hawrthiacoopri



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Other, i posted it in tumblr so ill link that, this is really self indulgent and was requested by a friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 05:55:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10803111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawrthiacoopri/pseuds/hawrthiacoopri
Summary: Richie seemed stuck on Bill with a fixation the likes of which she’d never seen. He looked at Bill with such an intense need and admiration that she thought it outweighed even Eddie’s sometimes.  And Bill seemed similar- he watched his ridiculous boyfriend bop around with the analytical interest of the professionals he saw about his stutter and his anxiety. He loved seeing Richie happy, even going as far as to try and spoil him into happiness. What a wonderful pair, she thought dreamily, watching Bill’s eyes trail after Richie in want as he bustled toward them. What a wonderful pair.Her thoughts were interrupted by Richie almost slamming into the side of Bill’s new Thunderbird at a velocity that made Bill cry out and catch him under his arms.





	hot blaze's hot spot

Rollerskating.

A common pastime in the sixties, of course, but was it really good as a job?

Richie Tozier seemed to think so. So much, in fact, that he’d gotten an occupation himself as a waiter at a rollerblade restaurant. Derry’s own Hot Blade’s Hotspot had a new server- and, in Bill Denbrough’s opinion, a cute one at that. Richie had chosen this position for two reasons; one, the name and outfits were absolutely god-awful, almost like Richie himself, and two, he could embarrass the shit out of Bill.

These reasons were very important to Rich. Fashion never interested him very much, but he loved to note the purple pinstripes on his pants, and the way the completely refused to complement his green shirt and apron. Whoever decided on THAT, Richie had decided, must really like the Joker. The skates were the same pastel green, and he liked those, too. Richie was fast as a snake on wheels, both ways intended. He was slick and he loved to skate, and more than either of those things, he loved to humiliate Bill. And that day, it seemed, he felt like being extremely difficult.

Richie begged and bargained and succeeded in making his friends promise to come to his (we use HIS tentatively, friends and neighbors, because Richie was a shitty server and also couldn’t keep air in a closed balloon) drive-in every Saturday night. Tonight was a Saturday. Tonight also happened to be Bill’s birthday. The losers had parked in the driveway to Hot Blade’s at around six, and still no sign of de Trashmouth.

“Are you sure he’s here tonight, Big Bill?” Eddie asked anxiously, looking out the window for any sign of their friend’s head of black curls and coming up empty.

“Ch-chillax, Eds,” Bill replied, turning the car off to conserve his radio battery. “I’m sure h-he’s just in the bathroom.” Bill’s sutter had been getting better since eighth grade, when he’s begun to take French at the advice of a guidance counselor.

“Yeah, ch-ch-ch-chillax, Eddie Spaghetti!” A familiar voice called from outside the window, slightly muffled by the glass but otherwise unchanged. Richie was here, in all of his cheesy, sleazy glory. “Roll down the window, you skirts, don’t stink up the car!”

“Richie,” Bill said happily, opening the car door and letting his boyfriend slide in. Bill had gotten notably stronger in the years since he and the rest of the Club had faced off against It, his shoulders and chest as broad and as wide as his smile at this moment. He let the smaller boy sit in his lap sideways, so his be-skated feet stuck out haphazardly from the car, and kissed him on the cheek. Richie had other ideas, though, and kissed him smack on the lips, flinging his arms around Bill’s neck with great zeal and smiling in delight.

“Happy birthday, Mr. President…” Richie crooned in an eerily good Marilyn Monroe impression.

“Happy birthday to you!” Stan Uris finished drily from the pavement outside, his converse gleamingly white, his hair meticulously combed. Richie quickly got up, his blades scrabbling across the gravel of the parking lot as he stumbled over and caught Stan in a tight embrace. Stan looked somehow surprised and impressed at the same time.

“Good evening, Stanny!” Richie said coquettishly, letting go and snorting at Stan’s pained expression as he wiped his hands on his slacks. “What, I got cooties or somethin’?”

Stan shot a tired ‘I’m sorry he’s like this’ look at Bill, mentally apologizing from Richie’s playful nature. They all knew Richie was all for Bill, only for Bill… except for maybe Richie himself. Bill waved a hand in a ‘what can you do’ motion and directed his attention towards the black-haired waiter.

“Richie. Orders. Or are you too busy dry-humping Stan to do your job?”

Richie whipped out a pen from behind his ear and a notepad from his apron, and grinned deviously. “That IS my job, baby. Now, what do y’all want?”

They placed their orders in a scattered manner, Stan Mike and Ben having only just arrived, and their total came up to 12 burgers and 4 orders of fries, along with 5 milkshakes that they’d inevitably get into fights about sharing. No matter how close they were, and what other fluids they had exchanged, there were lines Stan simply didn’t cross, no matter how good shakes were. He usually gave in, saying he didn’t even like milkshakes. That was always a lie, and Ben would without fail find him another straw and give the remainder of his, although Stan was on track on now and regularly cut down on junk, or as he put it, ‘Richie Food’. Mike simply didn’t like anything too creamy and thick, and got a coke instead, from the cooler in the back of the Uris’s car. Bev had gotten over her ‘boys have cooties’ phase long before Eddie and Stan ever would, however, and would sample all of the boys’ shakes without shame.

Richie twirled his pen and put it back behind his ear in a way that pushed his curls back and made Bill’s heart clench up. “Good deal, good deal,” he said. “I’ll get that started for ya. See you, nerds!”

“See ya later, alli-skater!” Bev yelled after their speedy, trashmouthed friend.

The gang goofed off as they waited for Richie’s fantastic service, playing a game of War with the card deck Mike had brought. It was from 1895, Mike explained, which was when Bicycle became the United States Playing Card Company of Cincinnati and playing cards became popular. He’d picked them up from a pawnshop downtown one day last year, and they were of immeasurable value.

“Sure,” Ben said. “Immeasurably valuable for Bill. I can see him eyeing those cards, don’t let him take them. He’ll take the 1895 dust right off those cards on Silver, Mike.” Bill snorted and pushed him to the side, dealing out another hand and narrowing his eyes at Ben over his cards.

They laughed and talked and joked, looking at Richie zoom around the lot absently as they bantered about nothing and everything. They were sitting on the hoods and tops of their cars in the dying light, the boys in their letterman jackets and polo shirts and white tshirts, and Beverly in her mod dress and headband that Bill had told her made her look like Julie Christie.

Bev was still very much in love with Bill, more than words would ever say, but she could hold until Richie grew bored. She doubted that time would come, though- Richie seemed stuck on Bill with a fixation the likes of which she’d never seen. He looked at Bill with such an intense need and admiration that she thought it outweighed even Eddie’s sometimes. And Bill seemed similar- he watched his ridiculous boyfriend bop around with the analytical interest of the professionals he saw about his stutter and his anxiety. He loved seeing Richie happy, even going as far as to try and spoil him into happiness. What a wonderful pair, she thought dreamily, watching Bill’s eyes trail after Richie in want as he bustled toward them. What a wonderful pair.

Her thoughts were interrupted by RIchie almost slamming into the side of Bill’s new Thunderbird at a velocity that made Bill cry out and catch him under his arms.

“B-be careful, Rich!” Bill yelped, hoisting Richie upright and handing him his platters. “Don’t kill yourself before you get Hayst-stack his f-f-food!” Ben blushed a bright red, mumbling and looking away sheepishly.

Richie got busy, passing out the burgers and fries with urgency. “He’s just joshin’, Benners. He loves you just the same, gut or no gut.” He plopped down on the car-stopper, looking up from his own strawberry shake only when Bill said his name.

“Wh-whaddya think you’re doing, Rich? Get your skinny ass up here!” Richie was all too happy to comply, seating himself on Bill’s lap yep again and looping an arm around his shoulder as he sipped his milkshake gaily. He kicked his feet back and forth before toeing his skates off and dropping them neatly down, nearly hitting Eddie on the head. Eddie’s expression made them all laugh, and they exploded into conversation again.

“Congrats on your sixteenth, Billy!” That was Mike, his tempered enthusiasm shining through.

“Yeah, happy sixteenth!” Ben added, cheersing with Stan.

“L’chaim,” Stan said sarcastically, and the rest of them collapsed into giggles. “Hah-fuckin-hah, dipshits, that means cheers in Hebrew. Happy birthday, Bill. You sure are the king on a mountain of assholes.”

He looked pointedly at Richie, who replied, “takes one to know one, Stan the Man, and you’re friends with them all.

“But yeah, happy sweet sixteen, bay-bee,” he drawled. They all laughed again, a happy, carefree sound, and Stan Uris, who would die at 38 with no children and a wife he would be leaving behind, in a tub pinked with his own blood, crosses decorating his arms, laughed with them.

Eddie Kaspbrak, who would also die under the same circumstances, except with his blood pinking his own shirt and sportcoat in the sewers he’d pledged himself to, raised his milkshake as well. “Happy birthday to the best friend a guy could have.” He looked sheepishly at the others. “Sorry, guys, it’s just-”

“No, no, we know, my dear Eds,” Richie replied flippantly. “We all know you’d let Bill take you to the edge of a cliff and he could say jump off, and you’f do it for a pat on the ass and a kiss on the lips. No, sorry- for free.” Eddie grumbled, fiddling with his aspirator and looking down at his hamburger in defeat.

“Happy birthday, Bill.” Bev.

“Thanks, guys. Y-you’re th-the best fruh-riends I could wish for.” Bill looked at them earnestly, stars and tears mingling in his eyes and glimmering in the night.

They sat in silence for a time, looking to their food and occasionally making a joke, and eventually, they finished their food. Slowly but surely.

Richie got up suddenly, slapping his forehead. “Oh, how could I forget?”

“Richie, what-” Bill attempted to say, his boyfriend cutting him off with a kiss on the temple.

“No time, gotta run, be right back, hon!” Richie called over his shoulder, racing away and running inside the building. The losers looked at the others and shrugged. Just Richie being Richie.

Richie was back, quick as a whip, with something ablaze in fire in his hands. Bill saw quickly that it was a cake.

“An ice-cream cake!” Richie proclaimed smugly, holding it out as the others crowded around and handing the cutter to Mike. “It’s all you, Mikey-man.”

Bill cleared his throat. “L-let me make this clear- w-we are NOT singing th-the birthday song.”

But it was too late. Richie was already pushed up against him, nestled into his chest, looking up from comically hooded eyes at Bill as the others serenaded him loudly. He pulled at his collar, looking slightly pink as Richie tipped up and pressed another kiss onto his lips in ecstasy.

The group of teenagers simmered down, sitting back in their spots as they glutted themselves on icecream cake and good conversation. Bill, Richie in his arms, surrounded by the laughing boys and girl, felt warmth fill his entire body.

 

He really was the luckiest guy in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr @ashkenazicstanuris!! i made a tumblr post for this if you could please support it:
> 
> http://ashkenazicstanuris.tumblr.com/post/160253992515/richie-and-bill-rollerskating-the-whole-club-is
> 
> thanks so much lovelies!!


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